


03/05/16

by BleedingBishop



Series: Lost And Found Mystrade Drabbles [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Dates, M/M, nervous Greg, re-do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: Reupload of my writings in the LostandFoundMystrade's drabble collection.Originally posted 03/05/16





	03/05/16

“So…”

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, for taking me out tonight,” Mycroft said, head raised high but the forward curve of his shoulders showed just how uncomfortable he was with the situation as it was.

“No, Don’t worry about it. I mean, don’t mention it.”

“Oh, of course.” 

Greg gritted his teeth. This was not how he wanted his date to end. Mycroft Holmes was one of the most interesting people he had ever met and had spent the last two days in a state of near-permanent excitement after Mycroft has accepted his invitation to dinner. 

Mycroft shuffled his feet on Greg’s doormat.

“I’d best be off. Early start tomorrow, and all that.” Mycroft tried again.

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

“Very well, Good night, DCI Lestrade,” Mycroft said simply, spun on his heel and walked back to his car. At the sight of the dark car vanishing around the corner, Greg let his head bang against his front door.

“Fuck. Fuck me. That was a disaster.”

“Wow, you didn’t manage to impress me very much,” Mycroft said, leaning back with a wicked simper on his face.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Mycroft. I really did want to go out with you, I just had no idea how to keep you interested.”

“Do I look like a man who would stay for three hours trying to make more than awkward small talk if he wasn’t trying to keep talking?” Mycroft raised his eyebrow.

“No, So you were-”

“Yes, Gregory, I was interested. Still am, if you are willing to try and win me over.”

“Definitely.”

“Grand!” Mycroft smiled and stood up from behind the large desk from the Diogenes desk. He buttoned the wool coat easily as he walked around and leaned over the deeply breathing DCI. He rested his hands on the back of Greg's chair and leaned further still, to whisper in his ear.

“I look forward to it.”

Greg awoke with a groan. That fantasy was going to do some damage one day. But this time it wasn’t a fantasy, and Greg in his nervousness had accidentally pushed away the master copy of the Homme Fatale Holmes fantasy.

Mycroft had been working for a solid two days. At this point, it was still in the average amount of time he spent away from his bed during an emergency, but it was getting close to the limit Mycroft could stand without upholding basic cleanliness.

He had just put the third Mobile down on his desk when an equally sleep-deprived Anthea (who, as ever appeared to be holding it together physically, in as much she had showered in the past 48 hours, and she had no need to shave any visible part of her body) appeared at the door to his inner office.

“Sir? A visitor.”

“Anthea if they haven’t a very serious appointment then I have no interest right now - as you well know.”

“Very well.”

As she closed the door, Greg felt his heart sink.

“I’m afraid that Mr. Holmes isn’t available right now.”

“Of course… Would it be possible to wait?” Anthea raised an eyebrow that reminded Greg heavily of her direct employer.

“I couldn’t say when Mr. Holmes would be available.”

“I’m good at the long game,” Greg said. 

“…”

“Please? If you need me to leave for security reasons then I will but I… I really need to see him.”

“Very well. Sit.” Greg sat quickly, not even going to try to argue with the woman who guarded his quarry. 

Anthea sat at her desk, trying her best to ignore the other being sat across the room. She was used to working in front of people, but the presence, this presence, was different. Greg Lestrade was a perfectly normal man, and yet his connection to both Holmes’ put him squarely in the circle of people who were a part saint.

But that doesn’t explain why he was here. As far as their intel was aware (and it was the nearest thing to aware it was possible to be) Sherlock was fine and Mycroft had not asked to see anyone from either the yard or Sherlock’s far more social circle.

So why was he here?

Her question was answered when the inner door to the office opened, and a less than perfect Mycroft walked through. He rubbed at his left eye with the heel of his palm and used his right to cover his mouth in a yawn.

“Hello my dear, I’m going to take a moment's break-” His excuse was interrupted by him catching sight of the other occupant in the room.

“Hello, Mycroft.” Greg quickly stood and made to walk closer to Mycroft, but dithered as he took in the tired eyes, the scruff of a two days stubble on his face, the same beautiful suit he had worn on their evening together.

The evening he had screwed up.

“Gre-tective Chief Inspector,” Mycroft said, the change from forename to title obvious (for different reasons, Anthea because she noticed everything, Greg because he had spent so long trying to get Mycroft to call him by his name and it hurt to think he wouldn’t get to hear it again because of an accident)

“Good evening…”

“May I ask what has brought you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 

“For what indiscretion, Detective Cheif Inspector?”

“For being an idiot. I didn’t mean to knock you back after our dinner. To be honest I kinda wanted to do the opposite. I didn’t want you to feel… like you had to do anything, like as thanks for the dinner. Again, Honesty, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to date you, let alone you ending up outside my door. I’m sorry.”

“N-no, its, it's fine.” A lack of sleep and an unexpected confession had set Mycroft rather off-footed.

“I came to ask if you would still be… amenable? to having another dinner? With me. More as another date than as an apology.” 

“I… I wouldn’t be averse to another evening.”

Anthea watched the pair smile at each other, Greg with all his nervous energy and Mycroft with far less hygiene than his norm, and felt the beginnings of a lot of security reformations to give the two their privacy.

After all, it’s not every day a Holmes went out on a date, was it?

**Author's Note:**

> After a long discussion, I and Jack agreed to let me post my writing without argument, so now they're on Ao3 for posterity :)


End file.
